The Killing Grounds

by Simon Corn

  The dragon seemed to sense her calmness and pulled back enough to look downward to where Alara still held the three egg-shaped spheres and then back up into her eyes. “Very well.” Alara stood and relaxed her body, the pain from her wound still stung, but she forced the hurt from her mind and closed her eyes as the female dragon pulled back and once again morphed into the wall. She held up her left hand toward the first door, Parian the mighty, father and protector, vicious but wise, your mighty jaws bar the way and I bow to your greatness. She held up her right hand, Paragon the scorned, sister and mother, you yearn to fly free but you are tethered and angry. She concentrated all of her strength at the third dragon, Trian, mother of all dragons, let loose the misery of your past and accept this gift.

  She opened her eyes, the dragon had come to life and pulled itself from the wall and no longer looked the same colour as the grey stonework and the brown wood. She was now a magnificent beast covered from head to talon in red and orange scales that slithered up her body as she spread her wings and reached for the eggs. Alara let them float in mid air and blew them gently into the dragon's waiting embrace. Trian screamed out in triumph and Alara sensed Paragon and Parian burst into fire and pull away from the wall to flank either side of her, screaming out their own song.

  The noise was deafening and Alara dropped to the floor with her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t stop herself from watching as the giant reptiles' beating wings tore the doors to pieces until there was nothing left but a gaping hole. And then just as quickly as they came to life, all three let out a mighty roar and crumbled into shattered wood and broken stone until there was nothing left to prove that they ever existed. A sense of sadness washed over Alara again. She tried to stand, but her feet gave way and she collapsed onto the floor.

  Black rushed to her side and bent down to help her back to her feet. “Are you okay Du Preeze?”

  “I’m fine,” she dusted herself off and took a deep breath while looking at the massive hole in the wall where the three doors had once stood, “let’s get on with it.” She led the way and without bothering to look behind her said, “By the way we’re walking into a trap,” placed both hands on top of her head in surrender and walked into the entrance of the Great Fort.

  Twenty-Seven:

  Guards rushed at them from all sides as Alara and Black stepped into the artificial light under the fort's portcullis. They were thrown to the floor and pinned down as their hands and feet were tied with rope. Alara felt rough hands grab her around the arms as she was hauled to her feet. A leather gag was forced between her teeth and a thick black cloth was shoved over her head and secured around her neck by a drawstring. A booted foot connected with the small of her back and she lurched forward as two guards led her away. She managed to spit the gag out and cried out, “Black!” but the only response was a punch to the back of her head and she only just managed to hold onto consciousness. The ground dropped away from her footing and she stumbled and stopped, but the men dragged her forward and Alara felt her feet hit step after step as they descended into the fort. She tried to scan the area, but was met with a fearsome ward that sent bolts of magical power through her body and mind, and she cried out in pain before another smack to the head reminded her to hold the agony in. The bag was stiflingly hot and the air was getting thinner by the moment and Alara could feel her head spinning as the effort of the journey took its toll on her.

  After what seemed like an age she came to a stop and listened as a heavy door was opened and she was marched in. She wanted to call out for Black again, but the welt on the back of her head acted as a reminder to stay quiet. She came to a stop and felt a hand on her shoulder that pushed her down until she was sitting on some sort of chair. Another attempted scan ended in the same pain and Alara gave up and did her best to heal some of her injuries as the door slammed and the room became still, but she knew she wasn’t alone. She felt a movement to her left and managed to drop her jaw to her chest as the punch landed on top of her head. The burst of pain made her cringe, but she knew that whoever had hit her would be in serious pain of their own. Then she sensed who was in the room with her, “Basel!”

  “That’s Lord Basel to you peasant bitch, and before you go all girly and ask, your kitchen boy won’t be joining us this morning.”

  She heard him grunt with effort and felt the slap land on the side of her head. She swayed, trying to lessen the blow, but it had impacted so hard that the ringing in her ear was almost deafening. “Better a kitchen boy than a coward that hits defenceless woman.” The back of his hand smashed into the other side of her head and the cast failed as she tried to heal herself, but she managed to grit her teeth and scanned the room with the rest of her Artistic strength. The scan crackled into nothingness and she slumped in her chair as the effort exhausted her, “If you’re going to kill me get on with it!”

  He ripped the hood from her head and grabbed a handful of her hair. “If I wanted to kill you I would have done it already,” he slapped her again as he let her head flop forward. “I much prefer slower methods of retirement,” he pulled a blade from his belt and dragged it along Alara’s cheek, drawing blood that trickled down her chin and into her lap.

  She raised her head and spat at him. “Oh…feisty little bitch,” he raised a fist and punched her full in the face, splitting her lip and breaking a tooth, which she viciously spat back at him.

  The ropes were so tight that they cut into her arms and she wrestled with them, but only managed to tip the chair over on its side and Basel launched himself into a series of kicks that made her cry out in pain. The wind had been knocked out of her body and all she managed was a dry cough as she tried to gulp air as the dirt from the floor mixed with what spittle she had left in her mouth. “Fucker!” She managed to shout as he dragged her chair back upright. She saw an opportunity and bit into his arm as hard as she could and drew blood through his thin assassin's black shirt.

  “Get off bitch!” he punched her in the side of her head with his free hand and tried to pull away, but she held firm and ripped out a chunk of flesh and the assassin cried out in pain.

  She laughed and spat the skin onto the floor, she needed to goad him into making a mistake and took the only avenue she could think of, “Ha! What’s up Basel, can’t get it up unless you draw some blood?”

  “I wouldn’t waste my time on the likes of you!”

  “That’s not what they say in the kitchens! Word is you like to get yourself some of the help. Do you know they call you Lord Floppy?” she laughed loudly to keep her mind off the pain roaring inside her head.

  He grabbed her hair again and slapped her with the back of his hand. “Full of jokes, aren’t we bitch?”

  She heard a blade being drawn and felt the cold steel at her throat. “C’mon limp dick, untie me and act like a man,” she spat blood into his face and attempted to head butt him, but missed.

  He let go of her, crossed the room and lifted her blade belt that hung from a hook on the wall next to the exit. He opened the door and threw the belt into the hall, “Under normal circumstances I would just kill you and leave you to rot, but I feel like a change is in order,” and he charged across the room.

  She scrambled to loosen the ropes but they held firmly so she braced for his impact, “C’mon big boy, show me what you’ve got.” He spun into the air and caught her full in the face with a backward heel kick, the world spun around her and it was all she could do to stay conscious.

  “I’m supposed to save you for my mistress but accidents happen,” he said punching her in the stomach. She threw up in her lap. “Time to get up Du Preeze, you stink!”

  He slid his blade through the ropes that tied her to the chair and grabbed her by the arms, hauling her out of her seat. She attempted a weak head butt which he dodged easily and spun her around to face the back of the chair. She felt the blade edge of the knife run up her back as her shirt was split in two revealing her naked skin, and he grunted as he thrust his pelvis into her rear, pu
tting her off balance and on her toes. His sweaty hand caressed her back and she felt the blade at the top of her trousers. She tried to fight back, but he reached down to her feet, cut the ropes and splayed her legs apart. A cry left her lips as she heard the material of her pants start to rip and felt him running himself against her. She started to panic, but she fought back the negative emotion and steeled her resolve, “Oh no you fucking don’t!”

  “Oh yes I fucking do.” He screamed and pushed harder.

  One, another hard push and she felt his manhood growing. Two, a disgusting grunt emanated from behind her. Three and got ya! With the last thrust he took his hand off her back and she went with the momentum, toppling the chair over as both assassins hit the floor. She slipped her hands through her feet, rolled away from where he was floundering about like a drunkard with his pants open and curled into a ball and feigned a mortal injury. “You win, just leave me alone,” she begged with as much conviction as she could muster.

  Basel managed to tie his pants back up and stood laughing at her, “How did you ever make A2 Du Preeze? You're pathetic!”

  Alara took her chance and pulled the dragon blade from her boot and cut the ropes off her wrists and hurled the blade at Lord Basel before the assassin had a chance to react. The assassin raised his arms to his chest and head in an attempt to stop the blade, but Alara’s aim was true and the knife thudded into his groin, severing his manhood and dropping him where he stood.

  She clambered to her feet and pulled a clean blade from Basel’s belt and staggered back as a powerful spell coursed through her body, cancelling out the pain from his assault. She took a deep breath and basked in the spell and then looked at the pitiful assassin that lay crying at her feet.

  She grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him to the wall of the room. “Look at me Basel.” He opened his eyes, “Who is the mark?”

  “Fuck you bitch!”

  “No fuck you rapist!” She used the power in the blade to cast an energy wave that pinned him to the wall and stepped back. She used the knife to remove the other shirt sleeve and manipulated it to tie her pants around her waist and stood in front of the assassin. The blood was pouring out of his crotch and Alara could see that the man wouldn’t last much longer. She stood face to face, ran the blade across her tongue and spat in his face. He managed to mumble something inaudible as a retort, but Alara grabbed a handful of his hair, leant in close and said, “You won’t be needing this!” She screamed as she placed the blade next to his throat and pushed as hard as she could, blood spurted out in all directions, soaking her face and neck, but it didn’t matter to her. She took a step back and breathed deeply before slamming her foot into the side of the blade, she screamed again as she watched the severed head of the late Lord Basel hit the floor and roll away from his body.

  She hoped the screams would deter the guards from investigating; they would have known what Basel was capable of and would have left him to his own devices. The door felt cool against her swollen face as she listened for any signs of guards before stripping Basel’s torso of his blade belt and wrapping it around herself. The power from them infused with her body and she managed several healing waves that took care of her superficial wounds, but the real damage was on the inside and she would need time for them to heal. Semi-dried blood covered her from head to feet and after a quick scan she found a sink with a dripping tap in the next room across the hall. She needed to get to the water and do what she could, before finding Black and getting the hell out of where ever they were.

  She hoped her friend wasn’t imprisoned too far away, if Basel had acted true to form Black would still be sitting with a bag over his head waiting to be tortured. She opened the door of the cell quietly and peered into the hallway. Two more assassins were on guard three doors down from her, but Alara had the advantage. She drew two blades from Basel’s belt and rolled out of the doorway. The blades felt weightless in her hands and as she loosed them at their targets, she knew instantly that the two men would be dead within a second.

  Alara coughed and spat blood onto the floor and groaned, just focus on the present, you can heal that shit later! She walked back into her cell and grabbed the severed head and looked into the dead eyes, “Not so funny now are you fucker?”

  ***

  A hard boot was all she needed to open Black's cell, he was sat in a similar position as she had been, but as she walked in he looked up and smiled. One of his eyes was swollen and closed and blood flowed freely from his mouth and nose. “Do you see this?” Alara thrust the severed head in the air in triumph. Black nodded, “Good!” She tossed it into the corner of the room where it lay facing the wall. Basel’s blade cut effortlessly through the rope that held Black's hands in place. She passed him the knife and went to stand at the door while he freed himself. She heard him stand up and asked, “How are you doing?”

  “Better than you by the looks of things.”

  “I’ll be fine, we need to get moving.” The pain in her body was crying out to be healed, but she pushed it deeper into her mind and led Black from the cells of the fort.

  “What happened with Basel?” Black asked as he looked back at the severed head.

  “Let’s just say he’s not half the man he thought he was. We need somewhere to hide and mop up some of this mess,” she looked down at her vomit covered fatigues. “Grab their clothes and get in here quickly.” She walked back to the door next to her cell and opened the door. The dripping tap sounded like a waterfall at an oasis and as she turned the tap on, a feeling of safety entered her body. She dipped her head in the cold water and washed as much of the blood off of her face as possible. Black had stripped the assassins of their shirts and scarves and passed them to her to use as a makeshift outfit, but everything was too big and she had to cut the arms out of all the shirts and use the excess material as a belt. “How do I look?” she asked as Black washed himself as best as he could.

  “Better with this,” he ripped a sleeve from his shirt and made a bandana which he tied around her head to keep the hair from falling into her face. “There you go, good as new!”

  Alara managed a small laugh and went to find her blade belt. “Get ready to move out as soon as I get back.”

  “We should rest up; we can’t fight in this state.”

  “No, we have work to do; we don’t leave until we find Lord Osari! We’ve come too far.” She stormed out of the room, but immediately felt sorry for snapping at him, he’d been through hell for her. The blade belt was lying in the dirt and the buckle was broken, so she slung it across her shoulder crossing Basel's belt and went back to collect Black.

  Black looked up at her, “You look like a bandito with that other belt tied like that.”

  She smiled at him, “Yeah but I’ve got a feeling that we're going to need all the steel we can get our hands on.”

  “Good point,” he said dragging a knife belt free from one of the corpses and wrapping it around his body. “Maybe we’ll start a new trend?”

  She heard footsteps in the distance and helped Black drag the bodies of the guards into his cell, “Which way to the stairs?”

  He pointed in the direction of the footfalls and raced to the corner of the cell block, two guards walked around the corner straight into Black's blades, and their lifeless bodies slumped to the floor. He checked around the bend and motioned for Alara to join him. “The stairs are at the end of the hall, they should take us back into the courtyard. If we can make it to the ramparts we can find an empty guard house to lay low; we might get out of this in one piece yet.” She nodded in agreement and made a dash for the stairs.

  Alara slowly opened the door that led back to the courtyard and squinted into the sunshine, the heat from the morning sun warmed her skin and she took a deep breath of fresh air. Her muscles ached from the fighting and not even several healing waves could stop the pain. Her eyes wandered along the ramparts and came to rest on a guard tower at the very end, she felt Black lay a hand on her shoulder and felt hi
m adding to her healing spells, but not even his power stopped her from wanting to pass out and sleep. She faltered, but Black caught her and steadied her for a moment.

  “You okay? We can’t rest here.”

  “I’m fine, just give me a moment.” She swallowed hard, but the lack of spittle made the effort difficult. “Do you see that guard house at the far end of the wall? If we can just reach it we can regroup and go over our plan to find Lord Osari.”

  Black grunted and helped her stand up, “I think you’re crazy Du Preeze.”

  She smiled at the quip, but the pain in her head made her vision swim in and out of focus, “Let’s get out of here Black, you can berate me all you like when we're safe. You go first and I’ll follow.”

  Black nodded and squeezed past her to take a look into the courtyard. “Two sets of guards, one set walking the ramparts and the other set patrolling the courtyard and the portcullis,” he said after a five minute wait. Alara groaned, “Stay with me Du Preeze, there is a thirty second gap where none of them have eyes on that guard house. We can make this.”

  Alara tried to stand up and ready herself for the escape, but the effort was too much and she had no choice but to submit to the darkness as she heard Black's voice getting further and further away, “Don’t leave me…”

  Twenty-Eight:

  Alara woke but didn’t open her eyes, she could tell it was dark, but she could also feel the warmth of the day. She immediately cast a healing wave and sent it through her body, the relief felt wonderful, the spell was weak, but it was working. Black had formed a shield around the area and she relaxed slightly knowing that she was in some sort of safe place, but that could just be another cell with Black in there with her. She started to panic and tried to sit up, but Black’s hand gently pushed her back.